Final Fantasy XII: The Sword of House Solidor
by Sudentor
Summary: Vayne Carudas Solidor. Known as the Sword of House Solidor, his name will one day be forever engraved in the history of Ivalice. But behind bold print and military miracles was a child who was helpless...until an otherworldly entity turns him around.
1. The Two Dead Brothers

**Final Fantasy XII: The Sword of House Solidor  
By Ysionris Gavotte**

**ONE  
THE TWO DEAD BROTHERS**

Bloodied, his hands were.

_Done, the deed is._

Crimson flowed from the hilt of the blade, traveling slowly across cold metal made warm by the life of flesh, trailing a pattern of red across silver before reaching its end at the pinnacle of its trip, the apex which was only followed by the drop from the tip of the blade to the ground below.

_And, yet, what have I _done?

And thus it happened, drip, drip, drip, crimson mingling with crimson, adding yet another drop to the rivers of one's lifeline spilled and flowing across the floor, a new carpet of blood painting a royal red across pearly white.

_It was to be done. They were to be judged as ordered._

He breathed, breathed heavily as he sucked in the air that he needed to clear his head, to purge his minds of the runaway thoughts going through his mind, tearing it into two even as he stood there, sword in hand, breathing. Alive, before two dead bodies that lay before him.

_They were my _brothers!

It had been so easy, so _easy_, for the sixteen-year-old youth, dressed in his imperial splendor, to walk up to his brothers, stay below their alarm even as he did so, before drawing his sword and impaling the first. No one could've expected their brother, who loved and was loved so much, to suddenly draw a dagger out of nowhere with no sign of danger. The brother never saw it coming, and he never had a chance to defend; the youth had slipped the blade in surgically, right through the liver, then up as he surgically cut through major blood vessels before moving the blade to the heart with ferocious strength. Years of practice had taught the youth exactly where to insert his sword, and where to cut. His brother's flesh was severed neatly like paper before scizzors.

The second brother had moved faster, seeing the death of their own flesh and blood, and was quick on the uptake even as the youth had moved on him, even before the first body had hit the ground, joining his fluids on the cold floor. Swords clashed, and the youth slashed, sparks flying as blade met shield. The brother pushed; the youth had fallen back, but regained balance just as he landed in a feline manner. Circling, the youth used his shield to block the brother's own impending strike, forced it aside, and thrust the sword true, even as the brother also parried the blow aside with his own aegis. But youth was favored with agility, and the youth found his own advantage as the distance closed. Finding an opening between the two, the youth knew what to do as training kicked in through countless close-quarters exercises; dropping the shield, the youth slammed his left elbow into the brother's throat, crushing his windpipe. As the brother attempted to breath, gasp in a world gone airless, the youth was already upon him, and the tip went through the chest, drawing blood once more.

But even as the life began to drain out of the second brother, even with his windpipe in a state of ruin, his gasp, a hoarse, rasping sound, still managed to make out the words, "You...you would do this? To your...brother? You...lapdog...of the Senate?"

And the second body dropped as the youth pulled his sword from his brother's chest.

And then the youth breathed. Gasped for breath. Trying to overcome his fatigue and his panic.

_This is the fruit of my work, my actions. The death of my brothers forever taints my soul, the blood of our father forever taints my hands. Because I was _ordered_ to._

Already, the sound of metal on marble drew near, the sound of Archadian soldiers closing in, their footsteps echoing across the halls as they converged on the disturbance. Undoubtedly, the fight had caused a ruckus, and attention had been drawn to the room. The soldiers knew to keep tight security where their lords retired, yet knew to stay far enough to give them their privacy. The youth did not pay the footsteps much heed, although he could already imagine the shock of the soldiers who would soon arrive, to discover that his face was splattered with the same blood that ran through his veins, and the bodies of his two brothers on the floor.

_No. No, I don't want this._

His heart thumped wildly against his chest, threatening to tear his rib cage asunder. He felt dizzy and nauseous; the bloody seemed to be caking onto his skin, becoming part of his flesh. The eyes of his dead brothers, distant and vacant, somehow still seemed to stare right into his soul. The world around him seemed to bulge with his head as blood pounded in his ears, throwing off his orientation. He fought tooth and nail for every inch of his consciousness and sanity.

_It had to be done._

With effort, the youth began to put into practice a move he had trained himself since days of childhood unmemorable. Slowing the wildfire beating in his heart, he gathered himself together, taking deep breaths to slow them, make him seem normal. He closed his eyes, inhaled, clearing his mind, forcing all of his thoughts out violently. Almost on his toes, he tilted his head back, eyes closed, searching for complete release...until he was back on the balls of his feet, calm, practiced. His eyes opened, and the sphere behind those eyelids were cold, a mirror barrier between himself and the outside world, revealing absolutely nothing, reflecting only those who looked into them.

The youth was just in time. He turned around, turning those twin mirror surfaces to those who burst in, three Archadian soldiers, fully armed. The three of them stopped there, trying to take the situation in, then settled their eyes on the only man standing in the room, the dominant figure of the youth.

"My Lord!" one of the soldiers, seemingly a Lieutenant, gasped, alarmed at both the presence of him and the blood on him, "We didn't...I mean, are you fine, my..." then he paused, saw the two bodies of two Princes behind the youth. Blood all over the floor. Sword dyed crimson in the youth's hands. For a moment, the Lieutenant was robbed of his capability to speak. There was only one logical answer to the question that plagued his mind, an answer built up by signs before him, but even now, he could not imagine it.

"My...my Lord," the Lieutenant was stuttering when he finally regained the ability of speech, "I don't...what has _happened_ here?"

The youth continued to look at the Lieutenant with cold, emotionless eyes, eyes that were mirrors, reflections that showed not the warring emotions beneath the surface. "Fret not, Lieutenant," the youth spoke, clenching his throat tight as to prevent any sign of his distress from coming out of his mouth, "On behalf of his Imperial Excellency, Emperor Gramis Gana Solidor, I have come to the lands of Landis to judge my brothers, the First and Second Princes."

_Yes_, the youth thought, _it is coming back to me. Logic. Cold, calm, rational logic. There is nothing to fear. Only the present matters. I must deal with it first before all else. These men, they will follow my orders. I must make them do so._

"A cordon is to be placed surrounding this room," the youth continued before the Lieutenant could put in a word edgewise, his voice projecting the full magnitude of imperial command, "Nary a man shall see this tragedy, and nary a word of this shall leave this room. The three of your now bear the burden of a secret that shall not know the light of day."

The three soldiers there continued to stand there, speechless. The youth decided not to wait for them to respond; his orders were to be given with deliberate rapidness, given from one suited to command. There was no luxury present to afford him to wait for them to He turned to one of the other soldiers.

"To Judge Zargabaath a summons shall be dispatched," the youth ordered, "Make haste with the message to Archades."

The soldier seemed to snap awake with this order, and immediately raised his arm to his chest, an Archadian salute. "At once, my Lord," the soldiers complied, and immediately ran out the door, eager to leave the presence of a bloody man and an even bloodier room. The other two soldiers seem to have regained their wits as well, and, after a salute, began to coordinate efforts to place a cordon on the room. Already, voices were heard ordering others away, that none was to walk into the rooms of the two Princes, nor was any permitted to speak of them. But that mattered not to the youth.

Turning around, he faced the bodies of his two dead brothers, dead and sprawled akimbo across the floor on their own blood. Looking upon them, the mirror of the youth's eyes splintered just a bit, just for a moment, showing the emotions inside, emotions that the youth would've paid very dearly not for anyone to see. But with his back turned onto the soldiers, only his brothers could've seen that crack across its mirror surface, and they certainly weren't in a position to see that crack.

_There is regret and sadness, and yet..._

A single tear leaked out of the corner of the youth's eye, but no one saw it; the tear quickly mingled with the blood before becoming part of the blood, part of life and death. Emotion was but a game between the two, and, now, no one knew it better than the youth. Steeling himself, bracing himself, tightening his vocal cords as to not show the souls of his brothers in the Netherworld even the slightest sign of weaknesses, shunting away all of the emotions that ran awry like mice in a flooding room, he spoke his set piece.

_...The deed is, indeed, done. And I cannot afford to show weakness. Not here._

"I, Vayne Carudas Solidor, judge and condemn you both to oblivious."

* * *

Author's Note: Aside from Balthier Bunansa and Basch fon Ronsenburg, Vayne Solidor is one of my favorite Final Fantasy XII characters, and possibly my favorite Final Fantasy villain. His presence commanded another type of character that I immensely enjoyed, and the greatly political man driven to become the next Dynast-King to return history into the hands of man made the story truly turn. After finishing Final Fantasy XII, there was always a desire for me to write a story on Vayne's dark past. And thus, here it is. 

Although the spelling and terms are used in accordance to the North American version of the game, the concepts of the game itself were taken from the Japanese version of the game. There were three main classes in the Archadian Empire, which I have dubbed the "aristocrats", the "citizens", and the "denizens" (although "denizens" haven't been used yet). At the same time, I often consulted with the Chinese version of "A War History of Ivalice", a book released by Square-Enix containing the development information of Final Fantasy XII released by the development team. Thus, I knew the inner workings of all of the nations, aspects that were not directly introduced in the game.

The chapters for this story will be very short compared to my other works (if you do not believe me, please check out the prologue for "Final Fantasy VI: Children of the Magi"; it is _long_). The shortening of the chapters is intentional. I had intended this to be a complete one-shot fic, but I decided to separate the chapters as I discovered that this may span on longer than I had initially anticipated. Because of this, the second chapter will be uploaded along with the first chapter to not keep you hanging.

This fic also explores the minds of each character much more than I had ventured before. Therefore, the use of italics in this story may be heavier than what people are used to from me.

There will be some dates, specifically _years_, in chapter two. These dates are taken from "A War History of Ivalice", and should be considered official.

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy XII is the trademark of Square-Enix. Most of everything belongs to them...except some parts of the story idea. We all know what they are.


	2. The Senate

**TWO  
THE SENATE**

"They could not have commanded treason."

52-year-old Gramis Gana Solidor was not certain how to respond to the remark made over the table. The statement had been almost expected, but it had also been a feared question that aging Emperor had not wanted brought up. Heads were turned as eyes were settled upon Vayne, his eyes maintaining the mirror quality that Gramis both admired and feared. Yet, as his father, Gramis could see the burning anger behind those mirrors. _This was an injustice_, Vayne was saying. Somehow, Gramis silently agreed. But he also knewan effort to buy some time to prepare a response was required.

Gramis made a loud business of coughing and clearing his throat. It was much more difficult than he had thought; with his frail body, every cough felt like needles were coming up his throat, and chunks of flesh were threatening to fly out of his mouth. _This illness will claim me._

"What was that?" Gramis said after the long pause, taking advantage of the forced silence across the round table of the Senate. He had hoped the time that had passed by would give Vayne a chance to rescind his words. Yet Vayne would not yet relent on his part.

"I said my brothers could not have commanded treason," Vayne said, a bit of venom dripping from his voice. Although he stood in the circle created by a large table in a round formation, before the Emperor and the Senate, he himself did not show any fear at all. His head and gaze was directed towards his father, but it was impossible not to know where the remark had meant to land.

Various members of the Senate made several nearly inaudible sounds of disapproval. Gramis pursed his lips, forcing away a grimace, as he chanced a glance at the head of the Senate, Chairman Gregoroth. Yet the Chairman, dressed like the other old senators in long robes of holy white and royal purple, sat there with an impassive face, looking at Vayne with eyes that, like Vayne's own, betrayed nothing. Gramis truly grimaced this time; it would be so much better if he knew what Gregoroth was thinking, but by shielding his thoughts, Gregoroth was making it difficult for Gramis to tell where the old Chairman stood on the matter...whether he approved or disapproved of Vayne.

Within the Imperial Capital of Archades was the Senate, the group of senators who supervised the politics of the Empire with the Archadian Emperor himself. Its existence spanned back to the days of the Archadian Republic, when Archadia declared its independence in 394 Old Valendian following the dissolving of the Galtean Alliance forged by the Dynast-King Raithwall. However, as the Archadian Republic began to expand its territory to counter the threat of its hostile neighbors, it formed into the Archadian Empire in 486 Old Valendian. To observe the traditions of the founding of the nation, the Archadian Empire remained to be a diplomatic government, and major elections were still carried out by popular vote. However, as the military gained power and curried favor from those in power in the Archadian Empire, the Senate began to lose power and the privilege to have their say in politics, merely another political branch in the face of war.

However, it was during the late fifth century when House Solidor, which had then been a member of the Senate, suggested that the Senate provide political aid for the military, legalizing many of their actions and preventing bureaucracy and paperwork from getting into the way of military affairs, all while making sure Archadia remained a diplomatic nation. To repay the Senate, the Emperor and the military granted the Senate many special privileges for its aid. _Perhaps too much_, Gramis thought in retrospect. By 615 Old Valendia, the Senate had gained enough power to ensure that it had its say in politics. While its members remained elected and the Senate had no direct influence over the politics, it continued to scheme with their special privileges, including the right to inspect and approve the Emperor's actions, policies, and decisions, not to mention his own inauguration. The great Imperial family of House Solidor, which had moved over to the Ministry of Law after disagreements with the Senate, became the bane and mortal enemy of the Senate.

"What compels you to say such?" one of the senators demanded of Vayne. Vayne eyes the senator with a glare; apparently, this senator had the balls to believe that Vayne's young age was pretext for being permitted to not address the noble as "Lord".

"I had taken the liberty of checking the records before I quit Landis," Vayne replied calmly, albeit with a bitter edge, "Funds being transferred from either the personal accounts of the First or Second Princes, or from the Imperial Treasury, to any of the insurgent factions in Landis were yet to be found. More importantly, all Archadian troops diverted to Landis under their command were well within the ratio set down by the Ministry of Law. There was no sign of the First and Second Princes plotting treason, as suggested by the Senate."

One of the senators spoke with urgency and outrage, leaning forward in his chair in alarm as he directed an old, crooked finger at Vayne. "How _dare_ you claim this was under our suggestion?" the senator demanded, "Are you to imply that we, the Senate, intended for the deaths of..."

Chairman Gregoroth raised a hand silently, but at the nearly undetectable motion, the senator's throat clicked shut and he fell into silence as if some switch upon him had been flipped. Yet Vayne saw all he needed. _It was obvious that it was under the Senate's suggestion_, Vayne thought bitterly, trying hard not to look at the nest of hypocrites seated around the ground he stood on, _or you would not have responded so urgently. You give credence to your folly._

"My son is still young," Gramis spoke in an attempt to lighten the mood in the chamber, to dispel the tension that had accumulated in the air so thick that Gramis was afraid it would crush his old, frail bones. And Gramis spoke truth; Vayne _was_ still young. Even at the age of seventeen, given the best education possible, taught in martial arts and politics, knowing all of the most subtle treacheries and political backstabs, Vayne was still young, and perhaps unready for the emotional burden of dirtying and staining his hands, no matter how old he looked. Already, Vayne had adopted a tall, powerful frame, muscular to show off his time spent with his combat instructors. His eyes, dark and thin, expressed just so much emotion to mask. His skin was slightly darker than that seen of most Solidors, as was his long, curling hair that came down across his face. Already, the third son of Gramis, the oldest alive, had grown from a cub to a husky. Even at the age of eighteen, Gramis' physical build and hard demeanor had not bee as blessed as this son of his. But Gramis knew that neither age nor physical build could contribute much to his precautions to suffering.

"Indeed, he is," Gregoroth made a motion of agreeing, a nod below the purple hood of his.

"I could only assume that word of the First and Second Princes' attempt at rebellion came from the Senate," Vayne continued heatedly, "Word had not come through the usual channels on the side of the Imperial family. Undoubtedly..." Vayne had no problems forcing contempt into the following words, "...only the Senate would have been _competent_ enough to have gained such information."

"Mind your tongue, Lord Vayne," one of the senators warned in a harsh tone, apparently displeased with his performance, "Do not forget that, before the Senate, you, too, are a representative of House Solidor."

_I am indeed a representative of House Solidor_, Vayne thought, _a representative and symbol of honor, of power, of courage. How would I be a Solidor to allow for your despicable and dishonorable ways?_

"We shall not press these charges on Lord Vayne," Chairman Gregoroth suddenly cut in, apparently wanting to guide the Senate in his own direction, "But my curiosity has not yet quenched its thirst. Mind an old gentleman, young Lord Vayne, but the judging of the First and Second Princes was indeed under our suggestion, although not by direct means. The Senate caught word in the wind of your brothers mounting rebellion from reliable sources. We were the ones who presented this information to his Excellency, Emperor Solidor, and it had been he who ordered them judged by _your_ hand. Even you condemned them to their places. Are you suggesting that, after you had judged them, that our information had been incorrect? That your father had been wrong to have you judge them? That you had judged them erroneously?"

_Words from a mid-witted mule_, Vayne kept his jaw from clicking and grinding with only the most determined efforts, _who seeks to provoke a response from me. If it is a response he wants, it is one he shall receive._

"The information compiled by the Senate matches not the official records which I have found," Vayne snapped, his teeth seething in venomous anger, "I acted by the word of the Emperor Gramis, who could not have been pressured into this move without influence from this Senate."

_That is not what he should have said_, Gramis prevented himself from groaning, but straightened in his chair, knowing that he had to clean up this mess his son made before the Senate. Already, the Senate, and even Chairman Gregoroth himself, were reeling from the recoil of Vayne's audacious words before this congregation. Gramis knew he had to take action; if any of the senators decided to speak up, enraged at Vayne's accusations, this congregation would be here all night.

"Thank you for coming before this council," Gramis spoke before any of the Senators could react to Vayne's outburst, "We will take your words into consideration. You may leave now."

"I am not done yet," Vayne insisted, laying his hard eyes, boiling with anger, at Gregoroth.

_Stubborn, this one. _"Yes, you are," Gramis said calmly, "Please."

Vayne was persistent. "Not until the blood of my brothers, the blood that runs through my flesh, is put before the Senate for them to..."

"_Vayne!_" Gramis put force into his words this time, slammed his fist on the table, in a not-so-calm manner. Vayne was _not_ to finish that sentence. Gramis' outburst surprised all at the table, including himself. The senators were all looking at him with a mixture of surprise and contemplation, and Vayne's face carried an expression of shock and disbelief, a fracture on his mirror surface that betrayed much. Vayne had not seen his father angry often, and certainly not at _him_. However, just as quickly as Vayne was struck with a mental blow, he recovered just as quickly. Those mirrors he commanded once again returned to him, and Gramis again could yet see through the guard his son placed before him, a suit of armor made of mirrors around his heart.

_Truly a heir to the House of Solidor_, Gramis thought with a mixture of admiration and regret, _or perhaps it is age that has clouded my eyes, stealing from me the ability to see my son's own heart._

"As you wish, your Excellency," Vayne responded, his voice calm and stately, one belonging to a noble who had just been dismissed from an important delegation, a sharp contrast to his feverish accusations in front of the Senate just moments ago, before bowing before his father, "By your leave." And, with that, he straightened, and walked rigidly out of Senate chamber. His footsteps echoed away, boots clicking on marble, before a cranking of the two large double doors were heard, a bang signaling their sealing, and the Emperor was once again alone with the Senate.

There was silence, a deathly silence that Gramis could hardly stand. There was plenty that the Senate wanted to say to the Emperor, Gramis was sure, but it was how to present it before the Emperor, their mortal enemy, without seeming disrespectful that troubled the Senate and clouded their minds at the moment. Gramis heard a cough there, saw a turning of a finger there, a shake of a head. The Senate was still trying to cope with the situation.

Finally, Gregoroth, as expected, deigned to speak. "That didn't end well," he mused.

"Vayne was provoked," Gramis protested, "He is still young, as you say. And he has just killed two of his brothers. Anyone would have been angry."

"It is as you say," another senator said, "Lord Vayne may be young, but he is too brash, even at the age of sixteen. I would be loathe to remind you that it was this kind of brashness that forced us to this political conclusion, the death of two Princes, provoked or not."

"And he was indeed provoked," yet another senator cut in, "Provoked by your Excellency. We all know how this came about."

And indeed they all knew. Vayne Carudas Solidor had been twelve when he realized that there was a tremendous gap between himself and his two brothers. His two brothers, the younger being more than a decade older than Vayne himself, was born of a first mother, and Vayne was born of a second after the death of the first. There existed a large gap between him and the two brothers, and Vayne relentlessly fought to close that gap. That gap was filled with many an obstacle, a gap filled with their ages, their skills, their maturities. Vayne must have developed some sort of inferiority complex that grew with both love and hate for his brothers, love for his own flesh, hate for their differences. Even as Vayne reached his preteen years, he was much more ambitious than any of his peers. His instructors would comment on his undying desire to prove himself, and he would constantly find chance after chance to show up to his brothers in an effort to show that he was no less than those older than him. It was known to all in the tight political circle surrounding the royal family: Vayne Carudas Solidor craved power more than anything.

And it was power Gramis used to drive, to _provoke_, as the Senate had said, Vayne to judge his own two brothers. When Vayne proved reluctant to move against two brothers he loved, Gramis coaxed him ever so subtly diplomatically. Granted, Vayne was diplomatically capable, but Gramis was old and experienced in not only swaying the general populace, but also the hearts of individual men. Gramis knew exactly which tricks to use on Vayne, tricks that Gramis had yet to teach his young son. A chance to show that he was better than his brothers, a chance to shift political power to his favor, a chance to eliminate future competitors to the throne...although it pained Gramis, he knew he had no choice but to lure Vayne in.

And even as Vayne stood before his father, horrified that his father would use such tricks, such diplomatic and psychological tactics, to condemn his two sons to death, to have them be slain by the hand of their own brother, Gramis could see the gears in his son's head turn and click. _Yes_, Vayne must have thought, _I cannot always live in the shadows of my brothers. In both body in mind must I show my superiority to my brothers. In swordplay must I be superior to judge them. In accordance with the law must I be able to force myself to do this. To be able to sway men at my command to keep this a secret and make it seem as if...as if my brothers had died in battle against insurgents in Landis...I must do this. Yes, it would put upon practice my own political skills to make sure upon the Empire does turmoil does not fall when they hear their Princes were engaged in treachery._

_It had, indeed_, Gramis thought, _been so easy to take advantage of Vayne's inferiority complex._ Gramis only hoped that Larsa Ferrinas Solidor, a baby of a single year born from womb not of Vayne's own mother, would not take upon the same path his older brother, his _only_ older brother, took.

"It was in accordance to the suggestion delivered by the Senate," Gramis said harshly, but carefully. Neither the Emperor nor the Senate were to show any direct confrontation, for obvious political issues. The forms must be obeyed, the proper courtesies shown.

"Indeed, it was," Gregoroth concurred, "The actions of your sons would have brought much tension between House Solidor and the Senate. We could not possibly ignore the fact that they threatened to take what they called 'punitive action' against the Senate. It would've damaged bureaucracy, as well as the name of House Solidor. None of us had any choice. We understand your suffering, yours and Vayne's."

_You forced me into this situation_, Gramis thought bitterly as he looked at Gregoroth with a neutral expression, not daring to reveal his inner thoughts to the man who was the head of the coalition against House Solidor. No matter what, the Senate had in possession "incontrovertible evidence" of "treason". As a "courteous act", the Senate had not informed the Ministry of Law, but, rather, approached House Solidor under the pretext of being able to spare the public of tragic news that members of House Solidor were involved in rebellious acts against the Empire.

The reason, of course, was three-fold. Although the Senate despised House Solidor, they could not very well have them eliminated by direct means. No matter what, cooperation with House Solidor was necessary for the survival of the Empire, especially in these desperate times, with the fangs of the Rozzarian Empire bared at Archadia. The Senate had to ensure that cooperation, or, at least, the image of cooperation, was prominent through the government.

Still, the Senate could not allow for the First and Second Princes to have their way, especially since the two were such right-wing advocates. There was great irony in the situation. The First and Second Princes, with their right-wind ideals, would've made great allies with the Senate, who wished to crush the Rozzarian Empire, as opposed to Emperor Gramis, who, in his old age, began to seek peace after the invasion and subjugation of Landis in hopes of making amends with the Empire across the border. Yet the brothers had been too militaristic for even the Senate's uses, parading their ideas of, heavens forbid, an _autocracy_ in Archadia. _Autocracy_, for heaven's sake, in an Empire where democracy was born! The Senate could not possibly ignore the threat to their power in a democratic state. And, worse yet, the military, the judges that command them, and even the citizens, save the aristocrats, were supporting them! And, the gods forbid, imagine if either of the two ascended the throne and became the next Emperor! The First and Second Princes _had_ to go.

But there was, of course, the concern of not letting this being known to the general public. Someone had to judge both Solidors, making sure that they died _honorably_. Word must not reach the world that royalty was indulged in treason. There was, naturally, the question of whom they could trust with this. The Senate didn't trust the judges; too many of them were allied with the Solidor brothers. Sending soldiers to do such a job would be difficult; word could get out, and trying to make this seem like an assassination would also tear the Empire apart, as the citizens would rile up against the aristocrats; even those on the streets know that the Solidors were not popular with the Senate and the aristocrats who supported them. In the end, they found a solution to kill three birds with one stone: They chose a Solidor to do it, and the only candidate for the stone was Vayne. The Senate would approach Emperor Gramis with the information, forcing him to act on his own sons; first, the information would be kept under wraps, second, the Senate would be able to test Gramis' loyalty to the Senate. Most importantly, however, was the third. The Senate needed to test Vayne's loyalty to the _law_. If Vayne was one bound to the law, willing to kill his brothers because they went against the law, then the Senate would be able to designate the next heir to the throne...a _puppet_ heir. Through diplomatic pretexts would they be able to control Vayne, by law and politics, and the Senate, should they succeed, they be the true rulers of Archadia, with Vayne as their puppet. House Solidor would forever be under their control, and the Empire with it.

It was, undoubtedly, a victory for the Senate. Unfortunately for them, it was obvious that the Senate was beginning to have doubts in their hard-earned victory.

"Lord Vayne has shown that he is indeed a most noble lord to lead an empire," a senator cut Gramis' reverie short, "A noble who abides by law instead of privileges, a man who will ensure the safety of the Empire. If only he learns to cooperate with the Senate more willingly, Archadia will be in the safe hands of the House of Solidor and the Senate."

"Lord Vayne is indeed a good candidate for an heir," yet another senator agreed, "A man of utmost honor. But most unlike a Solidor is his ill-temper. He seems to be a break from tradition..." the senator turned an eye on Gramis with a complicated expression, "...or perhaps, heavens forbid, he has taken after his brothers."

Gramis did not know how to respond to that. Rather, his lips formed a thin line as he looked at the senator unwaveringly, not wanting to show weakness, but not wanting to seem defiant either.

"But Lord Vayne must be held accountable for his actions," a senator added, some contempt in his voice, "We cannot possibly allow anyone, not even a member of the Imperial family, leave with the impression that the forms are not to be obeyed simply because of rank. You must understand this, your Excellency, especially with the judging of your own two sons. The law must be obeyed."

_So the Senate may enjoy their chance to flaunt their power before my son, no doubt_, Gramis thought. Of course, it was not what came out of his mouth.

"I must request that Vayne be brought forth before the Senate at a later time," Gramis said stately with just enough compassion in his voice to soften the heartstrings of the senators, if the scheming old men had hearts, "He is still young, and I fear he needs time to cope with the loss of his brothers, brothers whom he loved and judged with his own hands."

The Senate did not respond immediately towards that. Rather, some heads were turned to Chairman Gregoroth, who sat there, silent for a while, his eyes hidden under the hood to prevent the Emperor from guessing his thoughts. Finally, after several agonizing moments that felt like several lifetimes, Gregoroth expelled a breath and nodded his bearded head ever so slowly. "By your will, your Excellency," Gregoroth whispered, "By your will."

* * *

Author's Note: As mentioned before, the dates above were in accordance to "A War History of Ivalice", a book released by the development team of Final Fantasy XII. Thus, the dates should be considered official. 


	3. The Father

Author's Note: And after three month's of not having touched this, I finally update "Sword of House Solidor"...again.

**THREE  
THE FATHER**

The battle with the Senate may have been over, for now, but Gramis knew he had yet another battle to fight. One with his son.

Even as Gramis looked over his plate and across the table, he could see dissatisfaction plainly etched on Vayne. It was not that he had a sour face on, nor was it that he seemed impatient. Rather, he seemed rather calm, reserved, and normal as he quietly ate his dinner, and that itself was message enough to Gramis that Vayne was dissatisfied. Perhaps a hound would have run from a beating from the Senate, but a hound Vayne was not. He was not the one to take this sitting down.

And Gramis, watching Vayne quietly pick up the fork after slicing through the steak and then putting the meat into his mouth ever so slowly and calmly, knew it was only a matter of time before the tension in the room would become so heavy that Vayne would have no choice but to finish chewing, set down his knife and fork on a meal unfinished, and ask the question.

And that was exactly what Vayne did. Finishing another bite of his steak, he swallowed the lump of meat, and set down his knife and fork beside his plate. "It was the Senate who pressured your to judge my brothers, wasn't it?" Vayne asked solemnly.

Even as Emperor, Gramis did not often have the luxury of having dinner with his son often. His time was almost completely bound by bureaucracy with the aristocrats of Archadia, the ones who held major power over the Empire. As a nation that had evolved out of the Republic of Archadia, most of the old aristocratic families were strong advocates of democracy, and forever sought to weaken the power of the Empire as they sided with the Senate. Aristocrats, like citizens, had the right to cast their vote for the Emperor, as well as Senate members, but with special rights and privileges, a vote from an aristocrat meant a lot more than a vote from a normal citizen. Thus, it was always important to keep the aristocrats happy, lest they side with the Senate in an attempt to force House Solidor to abdicate.

Looking at Vayne across the oak table, Gramis contemplated his answer as he stared at his son. The room, lit only by candlelight in the dark of the night, enhanced the gaunter features of both Solidors, casting harsh shadows across their faces. Outside, the metropolis lights of Archades cast an orange glow from the streets below the Imperial Palace. The dining hall was unnecessarily large for only the two of them, a hall that was meant for the meal of at least sixteen on formal occasions. Already, the food had been brought in, the servants dismissed. House Solidor required privacy.

Gramis set down his fork and knife as well. "These things are beyond us," Gramis provided Vayne with a half-answer.

"These things are not beyond us," Vayne said sharply, "We are House Solidor, trained to place the needs of others before our own. Do you believe House Solidor can accomplish anything with these mid-witted mules playing with fire in the dark?"

"The forms must be obeyed," Gramis sighed, rubbing his temples in an effort to remain calm with his son, "It is one thing to exercise legal authority, another to act recklessly. House Solidor must always act with honor, and as long as our subjects are within the boundaries of law, we must not move against them."

"Then what of my brothers?" Vayne practically snarled, keeping his anger only in check because the man he was addressing was his father and the Emperor, "Did they commit any crime? Passed was the order to judge them even as they stay in legal bounds. Why did we move against them, then?"

Gramis spoke hard, deliberately, every word pronounced with a lack of emphasis; Gramis was trying hard to stay neutral with his son. "Because there was evidence that they were plotting treason," Gramis said.

"Evidence that was but a midwife's tale when I conducted my own investigation," Vayne retorted, "A Solidor would not have made such an order on such flimsy an accusation. You, an Emperor and my father, would not have had my brothers judged on such a flimsy charge. The Senate had to have been behind it."

Gramis knew that he could not afford to directly place blame on the Senate before a son who has passionately become anti-Senate; it would only ruin the ties between House Solidor and the Senate. Yet Vayne was talented at finding lies, so Gramis had to make sure his words were well-measured and careful. "If you say it is so," Gramis replied, leaving his words open to interpretation for Vayne. It would undoubtedly frustrate the son, watching his father give indefinite answers, but Gramis knew it had to be done.

"Do you wish for House Solidor to be forever tied by the Senate?" Vayne scowled. It took even Gramis a moment to hesitate, a moment to psychologically pull himself back a step, before realizing what Vayne was up to. _This clever Prince!_ Gramis thought, _Vayne purposefully tries to anger me, to call my challenge, in order for me to give a definite answer. It is not a trick I have taught him, nor could it have been anything his tutors have. He must have picked it up on his own. His potential knows no bounds._

Gramis folded his hands, leaned forward on the table as he looked at Vayne. "Vayne," Gramis said slowly, deliberately, with as much compassion and force he could muster at once while seeming natural, "thirty-two years ago, when I first ascended the Archadian throne, I was a right-wing advocate, a very high-ranking official of the Ministry of Law. Eager was I to fight the Rozzarians, costs be damned. I ordered the invasion of many lands, perhaps playing into the Senate's hands at that. Still, I believed I have erred; we are eager to fight fire with fire, yet look what fire hath wrought."

"Two dead brothers," Vayne replied in a deadpan fashion.

"Vayne, your brothers were of my flesh and my blood," Gramis jabbed his finger onto the table for emphasis, "Do you possibly think I had been willing to order them judged, by _your_ hands? Being an Emperor does _not_ mean I am free to do what I wish. Even the Emperor is subject to the law."

"Then by law we shall fight law," Vayne seemed to be strangely calm about it, as if, by some form of logic, it all made sense and was supposed to be, "The Senate uses its pretexts and its laws to control House Solidor, while we stay and allow ourselves to be lambs for the feeding. It shall be a difficult task, placing the needs of the people before our own whilst entertaining the Senate."

Gramis sighed as he leaned back against his chair, studying his son. _His brothers have left a mark on him_, Gramis thought, _a mark not easily removed...admiration for his brothers has driven him here._ "Your brothers harbored similar sentiments about the Senate. It got them killed. Don't follow in their footsteps."

Vayne nearly pounced at this, but he caught himself, not showing a sign of anticipation or anxiety, and asked softly, "So you admit my brothers were set up by the Senate?"

Gramis faltered, but only for a moment, before he said what had to be said. "Perhaps," Gramis whispered, raising his hands half a foot above the dining table, "But that is beyond us."

Silence again, an uncomfortable void of nothingness wedged between father and son. The candles continued to flicker as the fires danced across the table, distorting the images of both Solidor as the light played across their expressions, two faces an an impasse.

"What do you want of me?" Vayne suddenly asked as he readjusted himself in his chair.

"What do you mean?" Gramis asked, frowning, not expecting the question, yet somehow realizing this question was one of pertinence, one that must be answered carefully and precisely.

"You and the Senate," Vayne scowled this time, edges of his impatience showing as he shook his head once in frustration and no more, "I harbor potential of being something for both you and the Senate. For the Senate..." Vayne gave an exaggerated shrug, "...it is obvious enough. They want a _puppet_, an Emperor they can control. They've already killed two Princes they knew they could never control..."

"...We have no proof the Senate was involved, Vayne..." Gramis interrupted sternly, raising his voice, but Vayne was going, and he had no intention to be stopped.

"...and now I'm their next candidate. If not me..." Vayne jabbed a finger to the left as he pointed in the direction of the Imperial Residence, "...there's always Larsa..." Vayne put his hands together calmly, "...I know exactly what the Senate wants. But you, you who refuse to answer my questions..." Vayne leaned forward, but his gaze remained ever pinned on his father, "...What do you want of me?"

Gramis sighed as he raised his right hand, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and leaned back against his seat, his eyes closed, the harsh lines across his face betraying weariness and fatigue, both with the Senate and his own family matters. "Mayhap you should consider this another question I must refuse to answer," finally said in resignation.

"Is it impossible for me to just be a son?" Vayne pressed on, seeing that his father was at a mental lapse, seeing an opportunity to continue his moves against a tired father, "Must I be your sword to condemn your enemies with? The Sword of House Solidor?"

"Do you think you were 'just a son' to begin with?" Gramis, too, was becoming impatient as he sat upright in his chair, stretching his full posture as he seemed domineering in his full Imperial splendor and majesty, "By being born into House Solidor, you've had a duty to protect your Empire. You are a son of Archadia, a Solidor. You are my son, but you are also a leader who must be willing to make sacrifices for your Empire."

"And my brothers certainly made for an excellent sacrifice," Vayne said sourly and with a bitter edge, "Except it was not for the Empire, but for the Senate."

"The Empire is not split into black-and-white, Vayne," Gramis sighed as he relaxed in his chair, realizing that his strength was failing him, and he could no longer intimidate Vayne by just sitting up in his chair with a stern expression anymore, as Gramis once could when Vayne was but a child, "Everything is a double-edged sword. Should we wrest power into our own, we incur the wrath of the aristocrats, and if we aren't careful, the aristocrats may take our power away. Do you honestly think I don't know that? I've taken precautions, Vayne. Perhaps you see it not..." Gramis drew a line slowly in the air, "...but I am walking a razor-thin line in keeping our Empire and House Solidor intact."

"Then put that line in bold," Vayne took a finger and drew a line on the table, giving it emphasis as he placed pressure on that single finger, as if he expected a line to suddenly emerge from it, "It is only a razor-thin line as long as the Senate makes it so. The less the Senate ties down House Solidor, the bolder your line becomes."

Gramis was alarmed by Vayne's rather radical philosophies, but he dared not show it in front of his son as he simply remained relaxed and asked, "And you would ignore the aristocrats?"

"House Solidor has command of the judges, the military, and the citizens," Vayne sounded rigid, too rigid for Gramis' liking, a voice that had far too much confidence for a prince that was yet to be completely of age in the turbulent vacuum of politics, "So long as we stand by _law_ and protect the nation from the Rozzarian Empire, we shall have the high ground. The aristocrats dare not attempt to usurp power with it threatens the very existence of our Empire."

Gramis frowned as he looked his son in the eye, his lips pursed as he contemplated Vayne's word, contemplated where the future of this prince would go.

"So you would tip the balance of power completely in your favor, regardless of the cost?" Gramis asked.

Vayne leaned forward in his chair again, as if challenging his father. "What are ideals without power?"

And Gramis met that challenged as he, too, leaned forward. "What is power without ideals?"

Silence. The two Solidors, father and son, looking at each other. Glaring. A rivalry between two imperials, refusing to show submission to the other. A silent exchange of thoughts, of mutual understanding from minute betrayals of body language to learn things from the others that should have remained forbidden knowledge. Gramis, watching Vayne, ever stoic, ever calm, did not know if Vayne could discern anything from him. But Gramis could discern plenty from Vayne...and what he saw terrified him.

After an eternity, Vayne finally sat back in his chair, and, seeing that, Gramis did so as well. But Vayne only leaned back for a moment as he pushed his chair backwards and stood up from his seat, standing straight and tall, his face once again expressionless, unreadable, as he looked at his father.

"It is good that we could have dinner again, father," Vayne said simply, barely loud enough for Gramis to hear, and then, placing his right hand to his chest, bowed, "By your leave, your Excellency."

_He challenges me over dinner, and then, his objectives accomplished, he returns to his set of formalities, habits and traits hammered into him since his childhood_, Gramis thought to himself, and, for just a moment and not for the first time, he felt a great amount of pity and sadness, for Vayne, and for every child who grew under the banner of House Solidor.

And Gramis nodded, dismissing him.

Vayne rose from his bow, and then, turning around, spinning on one heel, walked out the room and out of Gramis' sight.


	4. The Prince

Author's Note: A shorter chapter, this time. I didn't foresee this chapter at first, but I wanted to go a bit more into Vayne's complicated thought process, the way he thinks as he works through his daily life as a busy Prince even at the age of sixteen...so here we are.

**FOUR  
THE PRINCE**

Even as a prince, Vayne knew perfectly well that the times he could actually claim as his own were few. His duties as prince kept him from being idle, and Vayne was left with little time to brood. He would wake, report to his own Imperial office, an unnecessarily spacious and luxurious office designed to bring as much comfort as possible without sacrificing practicality, and do his set of paperworks and routines, respond to the forms and formalities that must be obeyed. The tedious tasks would catch up with him until noon, where he would then permit himself to indulge in lunch. Vayne knew that he had much work he had to do, yet risking his health for such was not the way to go. The Empire needed a strong, healthy Prince at the reins. So he knew better than to skim lunch or cut down on sleep. Nutrition and rests were important.

There was some time that he could claim to himself shortly after lunch, before he must report to his classes, where his tutors would lecture him on the finer points of Archadian history and literature. At some point during his youth, Vayne attended a prestigious military academy reserved for the sons of high-ranking aristocrats, but by his second year in, Vayne embarrassed his instructors by learning all he could from them, and more. Considered a military genius, Vayne stood out in the military academy, and Gramis, seeing that his son could no longer be occupied by the curriculum being taught in the academy, withdrew him back to the Imperial palace, where Gramis consulted a retired general to tutor him in military strategy instead. A combat instructor was also responsible for coaching Vayne through unarmed combat as well as fencing, but the instructor had long remarked to Gramis that, had Vayne been a man and not just a boy, and with more experience, at that, Vayne could've bested any instructor years ago.

Funny what an inferiority complex could do to a man.

The studying and training went on towards the evening, before Vayne would retire for dinner, although it was likely that, at the same time, he would bring documents along with him, the tying of loose ends of the day, whether they be imperial paperwork or homework, and complete all that as he ate. With that, Vayne had the evening to himself, unless there was some formal occasion he had to attend, or unless the day's work had been extremely extravagent.

_The daily chores of being an Archadian Prince_, Vayne thought to himself with some humor.

Vayne was not exactly at all surprised when he entered his office in the morning just to find a document on his desk, stamped with the Emperor's seal, which confirmed his responsibility for the oversight position over the Ministry of Law to ensure the Empire could keep an eye over the proceedings of the Judge Magisters. Vayne would probably be considered too young for the job by the aristocrats, and there would probably be gossip in the halls of the palace soon, mumble-mumble amongst the aristocrats that Vayne had goaded his father into giving him more power, or that the Emperor wanted an imperial hand over the Ministry of Law. It was no secret, after all, that Vayne was the youngest person ever given the role to watch over the Ministry of Law, and that it was a task usually given to those not directly affiliated with the Imperial Household. The Ministry of Law was already close enough to House Solidor, too close for the comfort of the Senate or the aristocrats, and this move probably turned some heads in alarm.

Not that Vayne actually care too much about that. As he sat down in his seat and read over the document, scanned it over, he merely put it to the side and began reading the next ones. Vayne was good at reading between the lines, and he knew that the decision made by Gramis was not to hold control over the Ministry of Law, but to delegate more responsibilities upon him, to occupy his time, to rob him of his ability to brood over certain things, such as the deaths of his brothers. Vayne, in a private moment inside of his office, smiled just a bit at that, although it was far from a friendly smile; he was amused at how his father was making a veiled challenge towards him.

_So obvious_, Vayne thought to himself, _or perhaps he purposefully wants me to know. Yank me a bit. Telling me he's watching me._

So Vayne's daily schedule encompassed not only a trip to his own Imperial Office, but also to his office at the Ministry of Law, where Vayne was received by a squad of armed Judges, which Vayne immediately identified as part of the 10th Division as soon as he saw that the man to formally receive him was the recently promoted Judge Magister Zargabaath, clad completely in armor as a silent, vigilant icon of law and justice.

Despite some differences, Vayne actually harbored a liking for the quiet, military-minded Zargabaath. Vayne had taken time, just as his father had, to study those who pledged loyalty to the Empire, to study their past, their traits, their habits, their motives, their lives, and discern details from them, to know who they are. And Vayne had a pretty keen idea on who Zargabaath was, and who Zargabaath is. A man who would forever remain loyal to the Empire, a man whose neutrality amongst the political struggles of the Empire has already made him quite a judge of repute. His loyalty lay not with any political camp, but with the Empire and the masters he served by law, which would be the Emperor, no matter who he may be. A man of honor and conscience, a man whom would lay even those aside when in pursuit of duty. Vayne knew all this, and it was precisely why he had sent for him to cover up the death of his brothers a month ago. Zargabaath knew how to do things right, and he knew how to keep a secret. They were qualities Vayne admired quite well, and it seemed that, with his excellent maneuvers to ensure that the death of Vayne's brothers remained to be an honorable death on the battlefield in the eyes of the public, Zargabaath had been rapidly promoted as the Judge Magister of the 10th Division by the personal recommendation of Emperor Gramis himself, with approval by the Senate, a move that undoubtedly raised a few alarms from aristocrats who wondered if Zargabaath was siding with House Solidor. But since his dossier proved otherwise, Zargabaath remained, and continued to be believed to be, neutral.

"Sire," Zargabaath saluted Vayne as he received the prince emerging from the Pandaemonium-class airship, official airships to the Ministry of Law and sister model to the Atomos-class transport airships used by the Archadian army, that had landed on the airdock of the Ministry of Law overlooking the Archadian metropolis, "I am Judge Magister Zargabaath of the 10th Division. We have been waiting for your arrival, Lord Vayne. Permit me to escort you to your new office."

Vayne found some humor in the fact that Zargabaath, who knew perfectly well that Vayne knew exactly who he was behind the armor, would introduce himself so formally, but Vayne knew formalities had to be obeyed, so he humored Zargabaath. "As you were," Vayne gestured to the ranks of judges in parade formation around him, then turned to Zargabaath, "Please lead the way, Judge Zargabaath."

Zargabaath freed himself from the salute as he turned, his cape billowing behind him, and began walking into the halls of the Ministry of Law with two judge escorts, clad in black armor, trailing Vayne. As they walked into the cool halls of the Ministry, as opposed to the scorching heat of Archades outside, Vayne found himself in the splendid marble halls of Archadian architecture, and was not at all surprised to see eyes around every corner, watching with curiosity as the occupants of the building studied the new sixteen-year-old who would be watching over their activities.

"All seems orderly here," Vayne remarked to Zargabaath, testing the ice in the Ministry, seeing what Zargabaath's reaction would be, and what he could discern from it.

The slight hesitance before Zargabaath's reply betrayed much to Vayne, a realization that Vayne did not show. "Yes, Milord," Zargabaath agreed as soon as he recovered from a nearly undetectable lapse, "The Ministry of Law strives to ensure the integrity of the law in the Archadian Empire."

_A neutral response_, Vayne thought to himself, _Zargabaath wants me to know as much as he isn't willing to say out loud._

"That taxpayers waste their gil not is truly a sight to see," Vayne smiled slightly, hoping that Zargabaath would take the message as "I appreciate your work here".

A very slight nod from Zargabaath, a bob of his helmet, one that preceeded two seconds before he spoke again, told Vayne that Zargabaath did understand. "We are all we can be," Zargabaath replied. Once again, a neutral response behind both feigned and real subservience, meaning Zargabaath was watching what he said here, which also meant that the ice here was untested, and that Vayne needed to watch his step around the Ministry of Law, even if it did, informally, side with House Solidor.

Not too long afterwards, Zargabaath, not being one of many words, had wordlessly guided Vayne to his private office in the Ministry of Law. Vayne admitted that connections had done some good; the lush and luxurious office, which seemed more like a large study than anything, seemed to be too plush an accommodation for a sixteen-year-old. Vayne would have to be careful not to seem like he was flaunting power around here; the last thing he needed was to attract scorn and contempt from potential allies.

"Is the office to your liking, Sire?" Zargabaath asked after Vayne had entered and studied the space for at least ten seconds. He stood in front of the door, while the two judges acting as escorts stood outside the office. Vayne himself found himself admiring his new workspace in silent contemplation as he stood in front of his own desk.

"It will do fine, yes," Vayne nodded with approval, "Thanks be to you for escorting me here."

"Sire," Zargabaath returned the nod, then added, "Should you ever require but anything, I am to accommodate your needs in your responsibilities in oversight." He saluted, awaiting for Vayne to dismiss him. Vayne returned the salute, and Zargabaath whirled around before leaving the office, closing the door behind him.

Vayne released a sigh from his mouth, leaving him in relative quiet. He knew that there would be mutters of contempt along the halls of the Ministry of Law soon, complaints of why they were being supervised by a sixteen-year-old. Vayne had no doubt that the Ministry of Law was one blade he would have to wield and polish to use in his bid for Archadian politics, and, to do that, he would have to ensure he develop trust within the Ministry in him. Spinning in his mind were already several policies he believed should be enacted to achieve this purpose. _The ranks of the judges will need to be skimmed_, Vayne thought to himself as he circled around his desk to seat himself, _to give the Ministry of Law some mystique, allow for the Ministry of Law to seem like an elite organization to which the title of Judge is claimed...no, that wouldn't do. It would give the aristocrats an opening, allow them to claim that House Solidor is removing potential political opponents from the Ministry of Law. Fire the wrong man, and a hurricane they shall being forth. So the current staff cannot be touched. I shall have to limit employment in the Ministry of Law, then, but provide more funding. Still, approval from the Emperor and the Senate is required. Perhaps I could come up with a clause, something that would..._

Vayne's thoughts were interrupted as he completed the half-circle around his desk to spot a document folded in half, situated neatly in front of his seat. Picking it up and unfolding it, Vayne quickly read the contents of the document, which was, in fact, not a document at all, but, rather, an invitation, he placed it back down on his desk as he swirled his office seat around and sat down in it, leaning against its back, closed his eyes as his two fingers rubbed against the bridge of his nose and permitted a sigh to escape his throat. And smiled.

The invitation, apparently, had made it to the desk about one hour before he had, and with apparent haste. The Emperor Gramis was holding a banquet at night, and apparently, Vayne was on the invite list. Of course, the fact that Gramis had his own aide sign the invitation personally indicated to Vayne that this was not actually an invitation, but a summons. Gramis' message was clear: Vayne was not to miss this banquet.

Vayne sat there, smiling, looking at the invitation, contemplating, with a side of irony, at what a shrewd move his father had made. Undoubtedly, it was another move to occupy Vayne's time, something to keep Vayne's mind off dangerous thoughts while delegating him to more responsibilities. Vayne knew that he had the capacity to brood under such circumstances, but he also knew he was a fool if he would let his own father know. Yet Gramis was obviously not the individual to throw a banquet just to occupy his son. Vayne knew what his father was getting at, and admired with a message Gramis was sending him, that Vayne would receive a signed invitation, and on his desk at the Ministry of Law rather than his Imperial office. Vayne's oversight position in the Ministry of Law would soon be the topic of gossip. Controversial gossip, at that. Thus, Gramis was throwing this banquet to call forth the aristocrats and see who remained on his side, who could be bought under their allegiance, what support he could garner, and how the gossip was going on the side of the aristocrats. And Vayne being at his side would be sign enough for this, or at least the trigger to the torrent of gossip that would accompany the banquet in step.

_A truly well-calculated move_, Vayne thought to himself, _although it is a pity my father does not use his cards properly against the Senate._ Already, the gears in his head began to turn, a slow realization coming upon him that he may have to do some information gathering during this banquet. He would have to build up a reputation in the Ministry of Law, quickly, and garner as much respect he could within a single day, where he could at least gain the support of a few judges who would be willing to assist Vayne in eavesdropping on some conversations during the banquet, picking up words that would never be uttered within the earshot of the Emperor or Vayne.

_Zargabaath is too obvious a choice_, Vayne mused, _and I will need him to continue to be neutral. To ask him to condone this is to tell him I am but concerned of my own profits. Even should he accept, it would not demonstrate loyalty, although it would be taken as such by the aristocrats. No, Zargabaath is far too useful to have to carry the burden of being assumed as the Imperial family's favorite. It would have to be someone else._ Vayne already intended to have a roster of the key members of the Ministry of Law, dossiers to accompany them, and have his own agents sniff out little climbers, ambitious individuals in the Ministry who could be persuaded to sympathize with the Imperial family.

_The Senate believes they can tie my hands with the law_, Vayne thought, _yet they will be mistaken. I shall let them take the reins of history not. Yet the Ministry of Law, one of the many swords House Solidor brandishes, can be used against us as well. More intimidating are the enemies closer to home than the enemies further away. I must tread carefully here, for many here, too, are too tightly bound by law and law alone._

Somewhere in the back of his head was the pondering of what he would have for lunch. But as soon as that idle train of thought became an actual conscious train of thought, Vayne immediately snatched at it, turning a whimsical thought into something productive. _I'll have my lunch here today, with the other judges, in the mess hall. It'll build up an image, make myself seem more workable. It is not adequate to gain support from just the war council, but also the rank and file. I must learn to work through bureaucracy here just as I must learn to mingle with the men under me...all while seeming as composed and proper as a Prince should. A razor-thin line shall I tread upon...yet I can do it._

Paperwork was almost as tedious in the Ministry of Law as it was in the Imperial office, no doubt the work of his father, who insisted more bureaucracy be passed to him. Vayne took just a moment to admire how well-thought out these series of moves his father had condoned were. There was just the slightest moment of an intense urge, a great desire to spring before his father and say, "I'm more capable than you think I am. I shall take and I am taking all this you are giving me...and still following my own agenda, still working my own plots, still brooding over my own thoughts." He wanted to prove that he was superior, superior to the aristocrats, superior to his brothers, superior to the Senate, superior to his _father_. His deeds had long gone unrewarded, and he desired _recognition_ instead of toiling away in the shadows with no one ever seeing him.

But it was just strong desire, an impulse, and Vayne's cold logic, tempered by not only his father but Archadian politics, prevailed. It was not easy for Vayne to pretend to be stupid, pretend to be just a lamb, but Vayne knew exactly how rewarding it was for him to be a wolf under a sheep's coat.

Moving the stack of documents from the corner of his desk in front of him, Vayne picked up his pen and began to work.


End file.
